


A Work of Art

by brookebond



Series: Inceptiversary 2017 [10]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Painting, arthur is a piece of art, sleepy afterglow fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 18:51:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11584044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brookebond/pseuds/brookebond
Summary: Eames gets a sudden urge to paint Arthur.





	A Work of Art

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Body-painting square on my Kink/Trope Bingo Card.  
> Special thank you to dandalfthedisco for looking over this for me! I appreciate you helping me keep it serene and fluffy!

The afterglow was possibly Eames’ favourite when it came to Arthur. After a thoroughly amazing orgasm, Arthur went pliant, loose-limbed, and cuddly. It was something he had never thought Arthur could or would ever be but Eames was delighted when he had uncovered all these hidden depths.

Arthur after a good shag was something Eames would never share with anyone.

“Darling,” Eames whispered, “Can I paint you?”

“No,” Arthur mumbled, trying to bury his face into the pillow.

“Please.”

“Eames, you know the rules,” Arthur huffed, turning to face Eames. “You’re not putting me on a canvas.”

“No, no. You misunderstood.” Eames shook his head. Maybe he wasn’t explaining himself clearly. “I want to paint  _ you _ .”

“And I said no.”

Eames groaned and rolled on top of Arthur, pinning him to the bed like he had done earlier. Despite Arthur wriggling beneath him, Eames’ weight aided in maintaining his upper hand. “I don’t want to put you on canvas. I want you to  _ be _ the canvas, not the subject.”

Arthur stopped struggling and pressed his face into the pillow, mumbling a response of some sort.

Eames took the end of the fight to be a sign that he was agreeing and so climbed off Arthur and the bed and went in search of his paints. It had been a long time since he’d last painted on a body but he still had the supplies. He just hoped they were still alright.

Everything was still safely tucked away in one of the boxes he’d brought along when he’d moved into Arthur’s house. Living together was still new enough that Eames hadn’t fully unpacked.

He took the whole box back into the bedroom and smiled when he spotted Arthur still tucked under the blankets, face smushed against a pillow.

“Darling,” Eames whispered, “you still awake?”

Arthur mumbled something which Eames took as an affirmative. Even if Arthur was half asleep, Eames didn’t mind. In fact, it was possibly more preferable because Arthur was less likely to get twitchy in his sleep. That was a talent of Arthur’s: the ability to sleep like the dead even without being hooked up to a PASIV. Eames admired him for it and was a little jealous, if he was being honest.

Eames organised his set-up, placing paints and brushes on the bed around Arthur—who continued to doze as though nothing was happening. He climbed onto the bed, pulling the blanket down so it just covered Arthur’s arse before straddling him.

“Stay very still,” Eames whispered as he leaned down to press a kiss to Arthur’s ear.

Arthur made a small noise of complaint but remained still otherwise.

The first stroke across Arthur’s back was like a burst of light Eames had been waiting to see his whole life. The yellow was vibrant, contrasting perfectly against Arthur’s milky skin.

Eames smiled and went to town, mixing the colours on Arthur’s back as he worked.

When the painting was finally finished, Eames had lost track of time and Arthur had fallen asleep. He looked down at his handiwork, impressed that he had managed to pull off the gorgeous sunset without screwing it up.

“Darling,” Eames whispered, gently shaking Arthur awake. “I’m done. Would you like to see?”

“Done?” Arthur mumbled. “Oh… oh, yeah.”

Eames grabbed his phone from the bedside table and snapped a picture before handing it to Arthur. He cleaned up the paints and left Arthur to look in peace. While Eames was sure it would go down fairly well, he was always nervous when someone looked at an original piece of his. It was one of the reasons he had started doing forgeries. When it wasn’t his own soul being critiqued, it was easier to handle.

“Eames,” Arthur breathed the moment he stepped back into the bedroom. “This is beautiful.”

Eames smiled, his cheeks warming slightly at the praise. “I’m just happy you like it, darling,” he said and pressed a kiss to Arthur’s shoulder.

“I wish I could keep it.”

“Just don’t bathe—”

Arthur sat up, sheets pooling around his waist, a dimpled grin belying the roll of his eyes. “You’ll just have to paint me a new one.”


End file.
